A/N: The title comes from a Eurythmics tune. One lifetime, I’d love to have a go with Annie Lenox’ voice. The woman can sing. The quote arises from controversy surrounding the publication of James Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses and how it would endanger the mind of young girls. If only they knew. *insert laughter*]
Four – Who’s that Girl?
If there is anything I really fear it is the mind of a young girl.
Jane Heap, as quoted in The Strange Necessity, part 1
Two more weeks. Two more weeks and she would have been home free for the whole damn summer. Two damned weeks. Damn. Damn. Damn. It was soo not fair.
Sitting in the principal’s office waiting for the lecture she knew was coming, Dawn was mentally kicking herself. This just sucked. She was busted. Skipping math class hadn’t exactly been the smartest thing she’d done lately, but it wasn’t the only thing. At least it’s the only thing I got caught doing. Looking around at the stupid motivational posters on the walls, Dawn absently twirled a finger in her hair. She wondered which one of her guardians was going to get the phone call and hoped that it was either Spike or Tara. Of the four constantly watching her, those were the two who wouldn’t give her the endless lectures and pep talks. They would probably understand. Wouldn’t give her as hard a time as the other two, at least she hoped so.
“Dawn Summers, follow me please.”
Grabbing her books, she made the long walk into the principal’s office.
***************************** ******************************
Distant chimes rang in his head, disturbing his sleep. Spike groaned and rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable spot in the cramped quarters of Dawn’s single bed. It was, as always, a futile quest. At least it was a bed. More than he had come to expect lately. He shifted his weight, easing a kink in his back that owed more to the injuries from last night’s patrol than his position. There it was again, that pounding. Who the hell was knocking on the door at this hour? Opening one eye, in an effort to find the clock, Spike realized how late in the day it was. After one. His mind registered the pounding on the door, grumbling about disturbed sleep patterns and what not.
Pulling on his jeans, he bellowed down the stairs, “hold on. ‘M coming.”
Reluctantly opening the door, a shirtless disheveled Spike was confronted by a well dressed, dark haired fairly attractive woman. She eyed him speculatively, noting his state of undress and his general all around grumpiness. He kept away from the sunlight, stepping back out of the open doorway. “Is this the Summers’ residence?”
Her voice was even, without an accent. She was about Willow’s height, little on the plump side, but nice curves in any case. Spike eyed her again, noting with interest the briefcase in her hand.
“Yah. Who’re you?” Scratching his bare chest, Spike realized his state of undress. “Um.. Yah, lemme get a shirt on.”
He moved toward the living room, where a relatively clean shirt was on the corner of the coffee table, where he’d left it yesterday after Dawn had sniveled all over him. His voice came out muffled as he pulled the shirt on. “So, who did you say you were?”
“I’m here from the school.” He looked up quickly at that, motioning her inside the door. No need to worry about this one. Purely human by the scent of her, not to mention the pounding heartbeat. Flashing her an assessing look, Spike motioned her inside to the living room. “What’s this about then?”
“We’ve noticed a, well, something of a pattern with Dawn over the past couple of weeks. And we know that her mother recently passed away. I understand her older sister has custody of her. “
“Ah, this is great, but who are you?” He sat down in the chair as she continued talking.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Ms. West, I’m the school social worker. Dawn’s teachers have been concerned about her missing class and skipping whole days since her mother died. We thought perhaps it was time for a meeting with her guardian.” Spike just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say.
The insane thought ‘we’d all like a meeting with her guardian’ circled round his head, but he said nothing. He had no idea if this was routine or not. His only experience with formalized education had been well over a century ago, and he sincerely doubted any of his headmasters or prefects had engaged in meetings like this with parents. More likely, they’d have just caned the miscreant and have done with it. He couldn’t get up and call Giles, that would entail leaving this woman alone, able to snoop at will. No, better he get rid of her as quickly as possible and then deal with Dawn later.
He had no clue she was skipping school. It was not a good thing. Education was important, and she wasn’t helping things by skipping out of classes. They’d all agreed, as a group, that keeping quiet about Buffy being gone was the smart thing to do, especially if they wanted to keep Dawn close. Otherwise, if the authorities found out, Dawn would be shipped off to a home, and none of them would be likely to have any right to visit. And Dawn was supposed to go to school and try to stay out of trouble, keep under the radar.
“Buffy’s not here right now.” Damn how that hurt to say. Thank god they put the bot in a locked closet in the basement. He didn’t think he could explain some of the responses they’d been unable to reprogram. Willow had been working on it, but a lot of the phrases were still inappropriate for everyday behavior, and nothing that would help him in this situation.
“She’s at work. Okay, is there a time when I can schedule a visit with her?” The woman wasn’t entirely interested in who he was, she was just too busy making small notations in her paperwork.
“Ah.. Not sure when would be a good time. I’ll have to have her give you a call so she can suss that out with you.” He couldn’t see what it was she was writing, but she seemed rather intent on it.
“Yes. That would be fine.”
Reaching out her hand, she held out a card to him. Spike looked at her sleepily, then realized what she was doing. “Right then. I’ll just give this to her.”
Quickly, the woman was on her feet again, putting all her paperwork back into her briefcase. He caught her looking at him from the corner of her eye, a slight blush covering her cheeks. Ahh . . . so the bird wasn’t immune. He thought she might be like the wiccans, because she didn’t even blink, but the telltale sign of interest gave him an edge.
“Well then. I’ll let Buffy know you were here. I’m sure she’ll want to speak to you.”
He grinned, looking her up and down. She was pretty enough, but not worth either the time or trouble, even if his heart was in it. And it wasn’t. Didn’t matter looking, but anything more required an effort, and not one he was willing to expend, not unless something came up with Dawn that the bot couldn’t handle. Which it might, so the intense looking was good groundwork, but he wouldn’t do more than that. The woman colored further, this time looking him straight on, giving him her own once-over.
Making her way toward the door, she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
Ushering her out the door, he considered using Spike, but he didn’t think that would help Dawn’s current situation. Spike didn’t sit well with authority-type figures. Deftly he opened the door and willed her to take the steps outside.
“Name’s William.” He didn’t elaborate further. Let her think what she wanted, but her next words threw him for a loop.
“I thought Dawn’s father’s name was listed as Hank.”
He stood there gaping at her, no answer crossing his mind. She was down the steps before he could think of anything to say.
**************************** *******************************
Hours later, he was still somewhat mystified over his encounter with the school social worker. There’d been no indication that Dawn was having a problem, no letters home, no phone calls from any of her teachers. Spike had decided first off that he was going to talk to Dawn before he brought this to Giles. The last thing the girl needed was a full blown lecture from the tweed one. And he doubted that the girls would be up for the kind of lecture Dawn needed, and forget about the whelp. He would be more of a hindrance than a help. So it was up to him. He hated doing this to her, hated being the one to put his foot down and make her tow the line, but this was important. Not just for all of the rest of them, but this was Dawn’s future at stake. The last thing he wanted was for her to end up in a foster home. The only good news about that was she would probably end up staying in Sunnyhell, but if they managed to contact her father, she could end up anywhere. Not that he personally had any problem following her – in fact, he was the only one that probably could leave on a whim. And he would, if that wanker of a father took her away.
He was still lost in his own thoughts when Dawn came in through the back door. It took him a long moment to identify the rustling in the kitchen as her rooting about for a snack, but when he did, he was on his feet and approaching her before he could second guess himself. “Dawn. How was school today?”
There, give the girl an out. Give her a chance to make good, a chance to come clean. Her head in the refrigerator, back to him, she said, “it was mostly a day. Nothing big going on.”
“Really? Hhmm.” He waited a beat, then “that’s good then, nothing big.”
Dawn froze in the act of moving around leftovers from last night’s dinner, then slowly backed up. “Yeah well. Nothing big is good.”
“Good then.” Spike knew his tone of voice signaled his total disbelief. He could spot bullshit a mile off, and this conversation reeked of it. But he said nothing more, just raised a brow at Dawn and tossed her an orange from the counter.
“Ah Spike, how mad would Giles be if I had to go to summer school?”
“Is this a rhetorical question or one with some basis in reality, pidge?” Spike moved to stand in front of the sink, his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching her carefully.
Dawn looked up at him, a sad look in her eyes. “Spike, I think I screwed up. I’ve been skipping classes, and I got busted today.”
Points for honesty, he thought, and knowing what she’d done was stupid. “Can’t imagine that Rupert will appreciate this, Dawn. You know how he’s been going on about keeping scoobie business away from prying eyes. Wanting to keep quiet about your sis.”
Dawn’s sigh was deep, ending in a quiet sob. “I know. I just couldn’t . . . I can’t explain it. I just, just. . . .” Spike could take a lot of things, could be impassive at a lot of emotional outbursts, but Dawn’s tears stroked something inside that he’d thought long dead and buried. Compassion. He no more wanted the girl to cry than he wanted a dose of syphilis.
He watched, trying to maintain some distance, while the tears started sliding down her cheeks. Part of him knew she was manipulating him and was well aware she knew he was a soft touch where she was concerned. Another part of him knew she really was sorry, but sorry for being caught, not for her actions. “Niblet, you know we’re trying to keep the authorities from takin’ you away. If they find out, you’re good as gone.”
No reason to sugar coat it or play it nice with her. Someone had to stress it, play the heavy with her, make her understand what could happen, because so far, it seemed she wasn’t getting it. “Do you wanna go to a foster home? Or worse, go with your father, far away from the rest of us? That what you want? Foster family might not let any of us near you, specially me. What would you do then?”
Laid out like that, Dawn couldn’t argue with him. She knew there was no way she wanted far away from them, knew she didn’t want to go live with her father – who hadn’t been heard from even after they tried notifying him when Joyce died. They’d not bothered after Buffy, knowing that in order to keep her death quiet, they had to pretend. Staying out of trouble, not making any waves in school was all they’d asked Dawn to do. Thing was, he understood why she was acting out, but knowing didn’t make it any better. Rupert was going to have to be told. The school could make life difficult, especially if Dawn continued to act out. Slumping onto one of the stools, Dawn laid her head down on her folded arms.
“I goofed, didn’t I?” Not waiting for a confirmation from Spike, Dawn kept speaking, “dunno why I did it, I just. . . . it seemed like a good idea at the time. I just . . . what point is there in going?”
He waited her out, knowing that she wasn’t finished. “My life sucks. Mom’s dead . . . Buffy’s dead, and I’m left here all alone. Who cares if I don’t finish school? What is the point anyway? Why . . . I mean . . . just why?”
Voice hitching quietly, she continued “its just, who is gonna care? What , I mean . . . . its just, Spike, what the hell am I gonna do? Who is gonna take care of me . . . when this is all done? Who?”
Enough was enough. Spike moved over to where Dawn was hunched over, tears streaking down her face, pooling on her hands. “Sssshhhh. Niblet, don’t cry. You know I’ll be here. Forever if you need me, not gonna leave you anytime soon. Made a promise, gotta keep it.”
It was the first time since Buffy’s death that he spoke about the promise he’d made to her, to look after Dawn. First time he let it slip to the girl in question, anyway. He’d had it out with Giles, just before they buried Buffy, before the LA crew arrived, after the watcher had come to get him while Dawn was hysterical. Spike had laid down the law to Giles, telling him in no uncertain terms that Dawn, and Dawn alone was his priority. He also had told him about his promise to Buffy. Somehow protecting Dawn had extended to doing patrols every night, and he had no idea how that had really started, but the truth was, he needed the physical release patrolling brought him.
Dawn lifted up her head, her big blue eyes full of tears, at his last words. “Spike, you made a promise about me?”
Fuck. He’d not wanted to tell her about it, at least not this way. “Yeah, did that. Made a promise to your sis, to keep you safe.”
“You promised Buffy you would take care of me?”
“Did. Would protect you always. Even without a promise. You’re m’niblet.”
She squeaked, throwing her arms around his torso, holding onto him. “Don’t leave me Spike, please don’t. . . . please.”
“Not goin’ anywhere, gonna stay with you. Even if someone else tries to take you. Gotta protect you.”
His arms came round to hold her close, his hands running through her long brown hair, waiting out her tears.
[A/N: The title comes from an old Alice Cooper song, you know, THE Alice Cooper song. The quote just seemed more appropriate given the tone of the story up until now.]
Previously: The scoobies try to deal with life after Glory, Spike and Dawn bond intensely, Dawn gets caught being a kid, and now, Spike has to be the bad guy. This picks up the night following Dawn’s admitting to Spike she’s been cutting school.
Five – School’s out for Summer?
No blessed leisure for love or hope, but only time for grief.
- Thomas Hood, The Son of the Shirt
Giles stood, arms crossed, watching while Spike paced back and forth across the floor of the training room. “Thing is Rupe, I understand why the girl is doing it. Doesn’t make it right, but she’s feeling lost.”
He whirled about, facing the older man. “Feels like she’s got no one to really care about her, what she does. ‘Swrong, but that’s what she’s feeling. Tried telling her she’s not alone, but . . . “ he shrugged, struggling for the words. This wasn’t easy for him, trying to be compassionate, but he cared for the girl. If he admitted it to himself, he loved her, worried about her like he would have for one of his own blood. Even without the promise he’d made to Buffy, he would have looked out for her. “Doesn’t help that she’s blaming herself for what her sis did. “
Waiting a beat, Spike continued, “she thinks everyone blames her. Feeling lost. Alone.”
There was no visible response beyond the tightening of Giles’ jaw. He couldn’t rightly refute anything the vampire was saying, because he was guilty of feeling that way about the girl. It should not have come down to a choice between them. It should have been clear-cut and simple. Destroy the key. Close the portals. Destroy Glory. Instead, it became a . . . situation akin to disaster. The key was a young girl, blood and flesh of the Slayer, and how do you destroy something you’ve come to love? Rupert knew it wasn’t within Buffy, even as he’d first suggested it. And even as he’d said it, he knew she wasn’t going to agree to destroy the key, knew he’d hurt her even by suggesting it. Despite the belief that it had to be said. Which was why, in the last hours before the battle, instead of turning to him, Buffy had turned to this vampire before him, made him promise to protect the key, even from himself.
“Spike. I know she blames herself. We’ve all blamed ourselves, including I think, you.” Gesturing over Spike’s words of “‘m not the issue”, Giles continued, “but it wasn’t her fault. Buffy made a decision on her own about how to close the dimensional walls. We cannot second guess that. It does her memory no service.”
“Right then. Girl’s been skipping classes. Needs to make up for lost time and got to watch her. Can’t have them take her away. Won’t be able to protect her.” Spike lost no time in getting to the heart of the matter. “Niblet trusts me to tell her what’s what. No sugar on it. But she needs to know legalities and what not and what could happen if her good-for-naught father comes back.” He stopped pacing, facing away from the other man.
“Needs to hear from someone else wasn’t her fault.”
“All right Spike. I’ll sit down and talk to her about it, though I’m not sure she’ll listen to me if she’s already ignoring what you tell her. “
“She listens, just needs to hear from someone else, not her fault.”
Without another word, Spike stalked out of the training room, voice trailing behind him. “Right then, I’ll leave you to it, ‘m off to kill the nasties.”
Rupert stood there long after he’d gone out, trying to get his thoughts together before speaking to Dawn. He understood the problems the vampire had in dealing with the girl, after all, it wasn’t everyday that a vampire undertook to protect a human child. That this one was not a normal child was immaterial, and he was beginning to believe the vampire wasn’t normal either. Dawn was human now and completely unprotected. They had no idea who or what might still be after the girl, what her ultimate purpose was, and how she could trigger her ‘gifts’. He and the others had talked it over, just before and again after they had buried Buffy, what to do. At the time, the last remaining Summers had been too distraught to be included in the conversation, and they’d only just informed her of what she needed to do to stay with them. Perhaps it had been something of a mistake in not including her.
Dawn was home, with Willow and Tara. Xander and Anya were elsewhere, no doubt planning the wedding they somehow thought was a secret from him. He would inform the girls of the situation, and hopefully enlist their help with Dawn, but, he realized it was up to him to convey the seriousness of her situation. Spike, much as he hated admitting it, was right. They couldn’t leave the girl to the mercies of the California social services, nor could they allow her father, if he could be located and forced to face responsibility, to remove the girl from their protection.
In for a long night, Giles locked up and made his way toward the house on Revello Drive.
************************** *******************************
Hours later, Giles was sitting on the couch, a tumbler of 25-year old scotch in hand, waiting for Spike to come back. The talk with Dawn had gone surprisingly well, though he suspected she was more upset with herself for getting caught than she was for the acts that got her in trouble. Oddly enough, she was just as afraid of getting shipped off as the rest of them were. Tara had been horrified at the thought, and Willow had agreed to start tutoring Dawn. He’d laid it out for the girls, coming down especially hard on Dawn. He sat up, waiting for Spike to come home, as they’d begun the ritual of going over his patrols. There was more bad news, news he didn’t relish sharing with any of them, but he no longer had a choice.
Most of the lights were off as he waited, preferring to in the relative darkness. Giles left the fax he’d received as he was locking the shop doors earlier. Somehow, some way, they had been discovered. He sat, sphinxlike, while Spike quietly clattered in the front door, locked up and made his way around the house, making sure everything was locked up tight. It wasn’t until he made his circuit round the first floor, coming back around to the living room that Spike found Giles.
“Sitting drinkin’ by yourself isn’t good mate.” He’d stopped short, dropping the short axe down by his feet, wondering why Rupert was sitting so quietly. Not that he was ever really noisy, but something about his posture was stiffer than usual tonight. “Not go well with Dawn?”
“No, it went as expected. She did need to hear from me.” Giles shifted a bit, easing forward, placing his drink on the table next to the paper. His motion drew Spike’s attention to the paper laying there. “What’s this?”
“Sit down Spike.” Giles managed to refrain from drawing off his glasses, but it was a near thing. He needed something to do with his hands, but instead he waited until Spike sat, then moved the paper across to him without lifting it in his hands.
It was just a short note. Just a small little communique. It should not have provoked the reaction Giles was giving it. Spike looked down at it, without reading the words, gauging the watcher’s body language.
“Rupes, what is this?”
“Spike, read it.” He reluctantly looked down at the paper, suddenly not wanting to even touch it. “Rather you tell me first.”
“Spike. Just read it.” He couldn’t resist any longer. Rupert dragged his glasses off his face, placing them on the table with delicate slowness next to his scotch. His breath was soft in the air, sounding very loud in quiet room. Spike finally picked up the paper, scanned it quickly, drawing in a deep unneeded breath.
“Fucking hell.”
“Rather” was Giles’ one word response.
“What are you gonna do?” Spike tossed the paper back down on the table, almost loathe to touch it. “Bloody fucking buggering hell.”
The younger man slumped back on his tailbone, his legs spread wide and hands dropped down between his legs. His expression nearly exactly mirrored the other man’s emotions. Giles waited a moment, knowing he’d had a bit more time to come to terms what the fax said, but also knowing his hands were effectively tied. While he was still a British citizen, he had “resident alien” status with INS, and also was the owner of a thriving business. Truthfully, he no longer worked for the Council full time, but he did owe them allegiance, and not to mention he still did consulting from time to time. But that was just semantics.
“Evidently, the Council has independent sources of information here in Sunnydale.” Both men shifted in their seats, neither one liking the implications of that. Spike looked away, then back at Giles, opening his mouth to speak, then shutting it again.
“‘S’not good Rupert. Can’t have them spying about.”
“I know. This doesn’t bode well at all.” Giles picked up his scotch, sipping it a bit before he spoke again. “I’m going to have to return, at least for a little while.”
“Hell of a time to leave, Rupert. Girls won’t like this a bit.” Spike somehow knew Giles hadn’t yet said a word to the others, didn’t need the other man’s confirmation of his silence. “How’re we gonna survive without you, even for a little bit?”
While he was flattered, Giles had no illusions about how well they would all survive. The only one that really needed him, avoided him at all costs unless forced to deal with him. Dawn was more comfortable with Spike and Tara, listening to the vampire as if he were the parental figure instead of himself, and Tara tried valiantly to fill Joyce’s shoes. “No doubt you will all be fine.”
The loud snort sounded like a gunshot in the quiet. “Doubt that very much. Don’t play games with me Rupert. Doubt anyone but Dawn listens to me, and you know Harris would just as soon leave me in a puddle of holy water than not.” He shifted forward in his seat, hovering over the loaded missive, “know the girls might not care to have me here if you’re long gone.”
“I think you’re wrong.” Shaking his head slightly, Rupert moved forward, so that they were nearly nose to nose. “I think the girls like having you around, at least they know nothing demonic can get past you. They feel safer with you here. There isn’t much I can do about Xander, I doubt anything will ever change his view. But” and he waved a hand to dismiss what he’d just said, “that’s not something we can worry over. I’ve at least got to return to file my final diary.”
His voice wavered a bit, and Giles took a moment to compose himself. “I don’t know that I trust you completely, Spike. Don’t know that I ever will.” Lifting his eyes to meet Spike’s look head on, he continued, “but I can’t deny that you’ve proven you won’t do anything to hurt the girls. I have to trust that will continue.”
Well. Another admission from the watcher. Spike was certain the hellmouth was going to open and swallow them all up. Sitting here, this moment, was nothing short of a bloody miracle. That racked up two in the plus column, both courtesy of the other Brit. Who’d have ever thought? Not himself, given the reaction only his presence had gotten right after his revelation to Buffy of his feelings. Looking away from Giles, Spike tried to mask how much this admission meant to him.
“Made a promise. Intend to keep it.” was all he said.
But it was enough. They both knew what it meant.
**************************** *******************************
It took a few days, but Giles managed to break the news of his imminent return to Mother England and the Council to the girls. As expected, Dawn took the news silently, then pitched a fit later on, when it finally sunk in that another support was leaving. This time, she didn’t take it out on anyone but the culprit. There’d been a letter home from school, indicating that Dawn was required to attend summer school, since she had missed so much time for one reason or another. Despite being warned, and knowing that he’d already spoken to her once about this, Giles confronted the teenager again.
He’d caught her just before bedtime, on a night when Willow and Tara were both out, and while Spike was out patrolling. It quickly escalated into a shouting match, something neither one of them had expected. Giles felt he had to impress upon her just how important it was that she behave and keep out of sight of officials, especially since he was leaving for an unknown amount of time. Dawn had immediately jumped to into defensive mode, shrieking that he wasn’t her father, he didn’t even like her and why should she listen to him anyway?
Her voice had ridden higher and higher, until it hurt his ears. She was near hysterics again, only this time Giles knew exactly what had triggered this. Spike had warned him, knowing the girl would lose her cool during any discussion with Giles. Internally, Rupert cursed the vampire’s insight with one breath and with another he thanked him for it.
“Dawn. Settle down.” He caught her by the shoulders, lightly shaking her. “I’m not staying in England, I’m coming back, I just don’t know when.”
She crumpled. Dawn just slumped forward into his chest, his arms coming round to hold her up. Incoherent words, half sentences and muffled hiccups escaped her, while Giles held her close, trying to soothe her.
That was how Willow found them, Dawn curled up next to Giles, while he explained to her where he was going, why and who he had to report to. He also told her he was going to try and unearth the identity of their informants, and get some agreement from the Council to remove the surveillance.
Contemplating the two, the redheaded wiccan prayed that Giles would stay away for a very long time.
[A/N: the title comes from new wave band Romeo Void, as do the lyrics. It just seemed to fit, so I used it. Standard disclaimers still apply, though I might have a better attorney than some *snickers.*]
Previously: the gang grieves and tries to go on with life, the school has discovered something is wrong with life in the Summers home; Giles has been summoned back to England. And life goes on . . .
6. A Girl in Trouble (Is a temporary thing)
there’s a time when every girl learns to use her head;
tears will be saved ‘til they’re better spent;
there’s no time for her to be afraid, so instead,
she takes care of business, keeps a cool head
a girl in trouble is a temporary thing
Romeo Void, A Girl in Trouble (Is a temporary thing) 1984
It was so much easier for her now. Not that what she was searching for was easy to find, just that she had so much more freedom to search for it. Giles leaving had been a really really good thing. In fact, she hoped he stayed in England for the rest of the summer. Willow sat up in the restricted book section of the Magic Box, looking for references to underworld gods. She’d been looking, researching for a way around using blood, but so far, nothing seemed to work. There was a pile of grimoires to her left, a note pad perched precariously on her knee, and an enormous book at her right, hieroglyphics scrawled across its cover.
There was no way around it, she was going to have to use the rites from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, with adaptations from other sources. And blood. She was going to have use blood.
Every ritual came down to one thing, using blood. She was about to tread down a path that she once thought never to follow. Willow glanced up as a customer entered the shop, her attention caught by the bell. Stretching out her sore neck muscles, Willow tried to block out all the misgivings and doubts that kept flooding through her mind. There was no way she could falter. Firmly pushing aside the doubts, she turned her attention back to the books strewn about her.
Preparation was key, and the list of supplies she was going to need was long and esoteric. Nothing on it, except for the garlic and water, were things she could just buy anywhere. Some of the supplies were going to come from the Magic Box, and she was going to have to search out via the internet. Time and money were her only constraints, especially now since Giles was gone.
That had been a huge weight from her shoulders, Giles’ return to England came at a fortuitous time. He’d been gone now nearly three weeks, and it didn’t look like he was going to be able to return anytime soon. Xander had been sworn to secrecy, though she still hadn’t told him anything of real substance. Dawn and Tara were still distracted with school issues, both girls now mired in summer sessions, and Spike was oblivious to her scheming. Anya had been giving her weird looks every once in a while, but she had been able to divert her attention. So far, everything was falling into place.
She’d ordered some supplies just this morning, using the Magic Box sources, but used her parents address. Now it was just a matter of putting the ritual itself together. This was going to be the time consuming part. Everything was going to have to be gone over more than once, and she couldn’t afford to be careless. Buffy was depending on her, even if she didn’t know it.
So far, the Egyptian Book of the Dead was proving her best source, but there were more than a few of the Celtic gods and goddesses that walked in many worlds, and could be called upon during the ritual. She just had to make sure everything was in place. Willow let her mind drift, wondering how long exactly Angel had been lost in the hell dimension Buffy had sent him to, and what had triggered his release.
If she could figure that out, this would be so much easier. Unfortunately, Buffy had not kept any notes, nor had she confided in Willow when that whole situation was going on. She’d tried to go through Buffy’s journal, but Dawn had started keeping the door to Buffy’s room locked, while everyone was out. Probably because she doesn’t want anyone to move things around. At least that’s what she hoped it was. She didn’t want to think it might be something else.
The truth, if Willow knew it, might not have made her happy at all.
************************** *******************************
Spike rolled over, unable to get really comfortable. It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable, it was more the extent of his injuries. Lately, patrol had gotten a bit harder, with rumors of the Slayer being gone circulating about, though he’d been doing his best to dispel them. Being in the company of the Buffybot drove him round the bend, but he’d started taking the damned thing out on patrol every night since Rupert had left. So for the last nearly three weeks, he’d gone out, with the bot.
Two nights ago, he’d taken a hard blow to his side, breaking a couple of ribs. The cailleach-oidhiche they’d run across had been particularly difficult to kill, since it had both arms and talons. He’d finally managed to sever its head from its neck, but not before the she bitch had gotten her claws into his right side. The cuts and bruises were mostly gone, but the broken ribs were taking a bit more time to heal.
Groaning into the pillow, Spike shifted his back, stretching the sore muscles. Her scent hit him, making him reel with the loss. When she’d gotten a glimpse of his side, Dawn had insisted on wrapping him up, and then settled him, despite his angry protestations, into Buffy’s room. Arguing that her bed wasn’t going to be comfortable for him, Dawn over-rode his objections, pushing him into the room. She’d made him sleep there for the last two days.
He’d tried telling her that it wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be sleeping in Buffy’s room, but Dawn just shut him up. “Buffy would want to keep an eye on you. She’d be worried about your injuries” was what she’d said to him.
“Not this much, Nib, she’d’ve never let me sleep here. Probably would have put me in the cellar or some such.” Dawn had looked at him with her hip thrust out, and an eyebrow raised. She looked so much like Buffy in that moment, he’d almost laughed.
“No Spike, she wouldn’t have done that. Not now, not since Glory.”
He kept his mouth shut then, mainly because she had tightened the bandage around his ribs so much that for a moment the pain blinded him, but also because he had a feeling he wouldn’t win that argument. Buffy had been nicer, since he’d taken that god-awful beating from the hell skank, and she had trusted him to have her back and to watch over Dawn, so who really knew what was in her head those last few days? He surely didn’t, at least not completely, and he doubted Buffy had told Dawn everything. Spike figured that the two girls had talked some, but not enough.
And yet, here he was, sleeping in her bed. He made a promise to himself that once his ribs were healed, he was going to set up something in the cellar, so that he’d be comfortable in the day and still close enough to hear everything going on over his head. It was hard enough, being in this house all the time, memories swirling around. Confronted daily with the effects of his failure, Spike sunk deeper and deeper into depression. He had failed to keep both Summers girls safe. He hadn’t been able to save Dawn, and his failure had caused Dawn to lose Buffy. It was a vicious cycle he was unable to see his way out of, although he tried each day to come up with another way he could have saved both of them.
So far his favorite fantasy was instead of Doc being able to slip behind him and slice open his back he managed to grab the knife and slice Doc then pitch him over the side of the tower. Spike replayed that one over and over. Another one of his favorites was when he managed to grab a hold of Doc as he was sending him over the side and bring Doc tumbling down to the ground with him, crushing the spry demon beneath his broken body.
But nothing he did in his dreams consoled him. Because no matter how many different ways he came up with, no matter what scheme he thought of now, not one did what he most wanted. Nothing he could do would bring Buffy back.
Had he known someone was attempting just that, he might have been even more uncomfortable.
************************ *******************************
Xander was finding it hard keeping his promise to Willow. For the first time since they’d started dating, he had a secret from Anya, and it was beginning to bother him. He knew Anya could help them, she had so much knowledge but he also knew Willow didn’t want her to know. What he couldn’t figure out was why she wanted to keep everyone else in the dark. It didn’t make much sense to him, since everyone else was nearly as smart as Willow, and Giles was probably smarter. Xander knew he couldn’t compete with any of them in the smarts department, he had no self delusions in that respect. At best he could do grunt work and he somehow thought this wasn’t exactly going to be needed.
It made no sense, Willow wanting no one else’s help on this. He found himself biting his tongue a lot lately, ever since Willow had told him, especially around Anya. Not that he liked admitting it, in fact he preferred to pretend that his girl was just like everyone else and not over a thousand years old, but Anya knew stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff he was sure would help Willow.
What he didn’t want to admit was that Willow didn’t want Anya’s help, for more than just her issue with secrecy. He tried to fool himself, thinking that it was just Willow being paranoid, but deep down he knew the girls didn’t like each other. Although, he had to admit that Anya tried, while Willow didn’t. It was hard to face, but his best friend didn’t like his girlfriend - fiance. And for the life of him, he couldn’t really figure out why.
Which was only one of the things that was bothering him. Why Willow didn’t like Anya, why Willow wasn’t trusting anyone but him with her plan, and why she wouldn’t ask anyone else for help. It made him feel like someone was always watching over him, like someone was following him. Xander didn’t like this. Something about this whole plan of Willow’s made him feel all. . . . it was like drinking milk that wasn’t good. Every time he thought of it, it made him more and more uneasy.
Xander had not a clue that things were about to get worse.
[A/N: This is the part where things start to get a bit heavy. One of my personal pet peeves with the show was the flip-flopping by the writers between the terms “witch” and “wiccan”. I’m going to come out and say, yes, I am a practicing witch, have been for more than 30 years, and while I liked how things went as far as a positive image of “wiccan” practitioners, there is a distinction between being a witch and being wiccan. It’s a debate I often have with those I mentor, and its far too complicated to get into in these notes. Suffice to say, in the interest of brevity, a witch will do anything she has to, while a wiccan will shy away from actual blood and/or dark magick. That being said, watch out for the dark stuff contained herein. None of the rituals herein should be used by anyone. You have been warned. Chapter title comes from a Led Zeppelin tune, *smirks* you figure out which one. Quotes are as attributed, and the standard disclaimers apply, though I still think I have better lawyers than some.]
Previously: Everyone is trying to pick up the pieces and go on, but Giles has been recalled to England, Spike is holding it together for Dawn and Willow is plotting away. We now jump ahead in time a bit, and Willow has nearly all her supplies, and is working through the rituals.
7. Shadows taller than our souls.
Mind the three-fold laws you should three times bad and three times good.
When misfortune is enow wear the star upon your brow.
Be true in love this you must do unless your love is false to you.
These eight words the rede fultill:
An ye harm none, do what ye will
The Wiccan Rede, Lady Gwen Thompson, The Green Egg, 1948
Even if we did bring him back, it wouldn't be Michael. It'd be something else. Something dark and unnatural.
Aunt Frances, Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman
One last thing she was waiting for, the last of a long list of supplies that could be gathered beforehand. Everything else was ready. She’d gone over all the lists, eliminating one thing, adding another, but always mindful of the fact that every single one of her supplies had a purpose. All the herbs were packed carefully, wedged together inside the cauldron she was going to use. It had taken weeks, far longer than she had expected to find the pure white bullhide she was planning on using, but she’d finally located one. Searching on e-bay had been the key to finding all the supplies she’d not been able to locate via the Magic Box.
That had been surprisingly easy. Finding the suppliers, calling them directly and having the items shipped to her parent’s house had been deceptively easy. She’d hit a snag with the bullhide though. The rituals were specific and explicit. The only one that would work within the confines of the spell she picked was a pure white bullhide. And it had to be a complete bullhide, no stitching, nothing pieced together to look like it was complete. As a last ditch effort, Willow had logged onto e-bay, after searching forums and chatrooms and every source she could think of. It had taken a while, in fact almost a month and a half later, she still did not have the bullhide in hand, but it was being shipped to her.
Aside from the blood, the bullhide was the last component she needed. And the blood couldn’t be spilled until she was in the middle of the ritual anyway. Willow checked off the supplies on her list, as she packed all of it into the large canvas bag she was using as a carry-all for everything. The bullhide was going to be huge, but it could be stored rolled up and tied while she waited to perform the ritual.
Consulting the astrological aspects, she’d figured that the best time to perform the ritual was another three weeks away, during the full moon. So far nothing had contraindicated that it wasn’t the right time, but Willow was learning to be very wary of thinking things were going to be perfect. She hated that, that she couldn’t pin everything down, and convince herself that it was going to be perfect and go off without a hitch. She might be able to put on a brave and resolved face for Xander and fool him, but she was a mass of self-doubt. Thoughts of not being strong enough, not having energy enough, of outside forces unexpectedly popping up to distract her, or goddess forbid, someone finding out and stopping her swirled about in her head all the time.
Three more weeks. Willow suddenly didn’t know if she could make it that long. All the secrets and lies were just sitting on the tip of her tongue, hovering there every time she opened her mouth to speak. She’d find herself humming mindlessly just to keep from blurting it all out. Xander was the only one that didn’t look at her with questions in his eyes. Instead he looked at her with something like pity or fear. Anya kept eyeing her, but had nothing to base her suspicions on, there was just a niggling feeling along her spine.
Thank the gods that Spike was still wrapped up in taking care of Dawn and patrolling. He was in near constant contact with Giles, phone calls going back and forth every couple of days. Dawn was in summer school, which was nearly over, and her focus was on boys and school.
The supplies were finally all packed away, and Willow turned her attention to the actual rituals.
The ritual itself was problematic. She’d pulled together various rites, rituals, invocations and incantations trying to come up with something specific to raise the slayer. Harnessing all the forces, without frying herself or someone else, was going to be nothing short of a miracle. She couldn’t rely on using anyone else’s magic, since she’d made the decision to shut everyone out, but she could pull energy from them. Tara and Dawn were both essential, at least their blood was. And since Dawn was made of energy, she should be able to tap into the power of the key and use it’s energy. At least that’s what she was hoping for.
Her biggest problem was how to fill the bullhide. Every ritual she found had called for the bullhide to be filled with water and the resurrected person, well, Buffy, should rematerialize and wake up inside the pool of water. At least, that was the way it was supposed to work. She had no idea if the ritual would work exactly that way, since every other ritual called for more than one person working the spell. There were variations in the numbers of people who should be present, and she supposed it all depended upon the amount of power generated and tapped into by the person conducting the ritual. Which was another problem. She was the only one doing the chanting, she was the only one calling on the powers, invoking the gods and goddesses, so there was a limit to the amount of power, unless she could figure out a way to channel some of the key’s energy into the ritual. She also had no idea how she was going to keep the water inside the bullhide.
Willow found her mind circling round and round and tried to focus her attention on something else.
********************************* ***************************************
Dawn was home from school when he finally woke up. They’d agreed that she would come home before going off with her friends, just so he could keep tabs on her. Not that getting around during the day was a real hardship, it was just that Spike had found himself sleeping more since he’d taken an active role in patrol and slaying. Lying on his bed in the basement, Spike thought about the irony of his life. He was of the line of Aurelius, a master vampire in his own right, feared by many, and now, he was stuck playing family to an orphaned girl. That the orphaned girl was truly constructed of mystical energy and he’d sworn to protect her eased his chagrin somewhat; that the girl was the sister of the object of his affection made it disappear completely.
He rolled over, stretching his muscles, feeling the bones pop and crack. Lifting his head up, Spike sniffed out who was upstairs. Three heartbeats registered, only one in a pattern he readily recognized. Dawn had brought friends home. His deep sigh broke the silence of the cellar. Sitting up, Spike reached for his pants and in one smooth motion slid out of the bed and into his pants. Not bothering with shoes or a shirt, Spike padded silently to the basement door. Girlish voices sounded on the other side of the door, and Spike leaned his head against the door for a moment trying to hear who was there. Dawn was easy to identify, and he thought one of the others was Janice, but had no idea who the third one was.
Opening the door, Spike was greeted with the sight of an array of various snack foods piled high on the counter, opened soda bottles and three teenaged girls gaping at him.
“‘lo niblet” was his rumbled greeting. She mumbled something around a mouthful of chips, and Janice just smiled at him, but it was the startled “eep” from the unknown that caught his attention. Her cute little face looked up at him, blue eyes nearly bugging out of her head and mouth open wide in surprise. Dawn and Janice shared a glance and then giggled a bit, while Spike just raised an eyebrow in question. Ambling over to the refrigerator, Spike passed Dawn and pulled on her hair.
“Who’s this then?”
“Spike this is Kirsten.” A deep blush was the only response, while Spike nodded at the introduction. A softly mumbled hey came from the girl, while her eyes traveled the length of his bare torso. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, nor button his pants up completely, and his hair was a mass of unruly curls. Dawn thought he couldn’t have looked any cuter, but decided to keep that thought to herself. Looking over at her friend, she continued “Kirsten, this is Spike, my sister’s boyfriend.”
He swung around to face her. His face was impassive, only his eyes showing what he was thinking. “Bit?”
Dawn raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the girls, silently communicating that this was the best cover she could come up with, waiting for him to understand. Spike stood there, staring at her, his mind not really registering what she had meant. He caught on, though her introduction didn’t please him, he partially understood why she’d done it. “Right. Where’s my stuff?”
Turning back to the refrigerator, Spike searched about for the blood he knew should be there. “Um, I put it in the freezer.”
His impatience with the whole conversation was evident when he slammed the door closed, then ripped open the freezer, looking for his blood supply. He started to rip it out, his temper inexplicably getting the better of him today, then abruptly realized who it was in the kitchen with him. Resting his head on the open freezer door, Spike sighed deeply.
“You ok?” A timid voice asked from beside him. The new girl looked up at him, concern etched on her features. Somehow she had managed to move past the other girls and sidle up to him, all without catching anyone else’s attention.
Spike cleared his features, “‘m fine, just tired is all. Work nights.”
“My dad works nights, so I know how it is. Did we wake you up?” Her voice was sweet, not too girlishly shrill like some of the others Dawn had brought home a time or two, holding the promise of being husky and deep when she got older. She was a pretty little thing, all blue eyes and blondish hair, a slight golden tan dusting her features. Her small hand reached out to touch him, and Spike automatically moved back out of her way. Wasn’t that he didn’t like to be touched, in fact if anything he enjoyed the touch of others, especially women, but this wasn’t a woman. This was a little girl, more importantly, Dawn’s friend, and he didn’t want to give any of them ideas. Oh he knew they all thought he was cute, hard to disguise their increased heart rates and breathing whenever he was around, but he didn’t want any reason for the authorities to come around. So he kept his distance from the girls. Wasn’t always this difficult though.
He stepped back away from her and wasn’t really surprised when she followed. Disconcerted a bit, but entirely unsurprised. There was something about this one, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but she caused his nerves to sing. Not entirely human was his first thought, which was cemented when she looked up at him again. A sparkle entered her eyes, making them appear purple. Spike stepped further away, into the patch of sunlight, and she pulled him away from it before he could react. Her whisper took him by surprise “shouldn’t do that. You could get all crispy.”
An impish smile flashed across her features, rendering Spike speechless. Her next sentence would have stopped his heart, if it had been beating. “Have to keep the key’s protector safe. Can’t break your promise.”
A harsh breath escaped his throat, which somehow went unnoticed by the other two girls. “What do you know of that?”
His hackles rose, every instinct screaming at him to protect Dawn and get this one away from her. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to attack the key. I’m here to . . . “ she thought for a moment, then “not help you, but to, I suppose the best way to put it would be to say, that I’m here to give you hope.”
The look of disbelief on his face must have been comical, because the girl let peels of laughter echo through the room. “Relax Spike. I’m not a threat. I promise.”
“Right, and how’m I supposed to trust that?” He didn’t trust her, didn’t know who sent her, and he’d learned over the last couple of years living over the hellmouth, not to trust even those that professed to be “white hats”. His experience at the hands of the Initiative had driven that point home quite clearly. “Dunno who you are pet, nor why you’re here.”
“I’m here to give you some hope.” Her eyes twinkled, almost whirling with color as he looked carefully at her. “What makes you think I need hope?”
Brilliant reply there mate, he thought. He shook his head, more in denial of the idea of him needing hope than the fact someone thought he needed it. She giggled softly once more, catching his full attention. That giggle . . . his unnecessary breath caught in his throat. God she sounded just like Buffy in that moment. Spike looked down at her again, this time really looking. She was tiny, barely coming up to the middle of his chest, her features small and delicate. She reminded him of Buffy a bit, nothing facially but more in just her impish side.
She raised her eyebrow, a wide smile crossing her features. His nerves were still singing, but for some reason he eased his apprehension a bit. Must be the resemblance to Buffy, he thought, then dismissed it, but the idea remained. Her tiny hand was still wrapped around his forearm, and Spike could feel his skin warming up from just her touch. This one burned warmer than others. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in her scent, listening to the cadence of her heartbeat. A wisp of some scent he never in al his years had come across wafted from her, and it somehow, even while it set his teeth on edge, somehow it soothed him at the same time. The absurd idea that this little girl was otherwordly surfaced, and Spike immediately discarded it.
Opening his eyes, he glanced down once at the creature before him, then over her head to focus on Dawn. She wasn’t human. Two of the girls in this room with him right now at this instant were other than human. Kirsten caught the direction of his gaze and a look he’d not expected cross her face. “My promise to William. I’m not here to hurt her.”
She’d said William. Not Spike, not William the bloody. . . but William. Spike shook his head, negating her words. “I will swear if you want me to.”
Once more he met her gaze, searching for the truth she wanted him to find. Her small hand reached up to touch his cheek. “I swear . . . on the soul of her sister, I’m not here to hurt the key.”
His mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come. There wasn’t a single thought in his head, save the repetition of her words. She’d sworn on the soul of the slayer. On the soul of Buffy. To him, there was nothing to refute that.
Clearing his throat, Spike tried to get words past his teeth. “Why then d’you think I need hope?”
Fuck. Wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at all, but those were the words that popped out of his mouth. Somehow, their voices had dropped down to a bare whisper, neither one of the wanting to be overheard by the other two. “‘Snot hope I need pet, well, I’m not the one needing it.”
His gaze fixed on Dawn, then unknown to him, softened as he watched her for a moment.
Kirsten smiled, watching him watch Dawn. She suppressed a giggle, all the while thinking, and the vampire thinks he doesn’t need hope. Speaking again, she said “you are a good man Spike.”
He swung his eyes back down to her disbelief shining through. “‘M not a man pet, vampire here.”
The little girl shook her head in defiance. “Still a man. Still good. Its why I’ve been sent here.“
“So tell me pet, why have you been sent? And who sent you?” Spike crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for her answer.
Again she looked up at him, her eyes almost whirling. A soft little sigh escaped from her mouth, and she settled in closer to him, not moving her hand from his arm. “I can’t tell you everything, so don’t get agitated with me.”
The girl he knew as Kirsten waited a beat, caught his imperceptible nod, then spoke “I’m just here to give you a message and hope.” Once again he had that look on his face that said more about him disbelieving the idea that he needed hope, but he nodded, waiting for her to continue. “It’s gonna be okay, you know, despite what you think, and even, despite what you see.”
Once more she waited, this time for the message to sink in. There wasn’t much she could actually come out and say, there were not really rules she had to follow, more like guidelines, but she still had almost said too much. A muscle in his cheek twitched, but otherwise his face was impassive. Kirsten stepped back then quelled her fear, retaking the step she had relinquished. “Please trust this. Trust that the slayer would never hurt the key, trust that she wouldn’t allow anything to harm her. And trust, William, in the trust that she had for you.”
He didn’t want to, but some niggling sense made him stop judging what she said and just let it be. Spike smiled a little, nodding his head to give her a chance to go on. He thought perhaps, that if he didn’t speak, didn’t contradict her in anyway or cause an argument, she might be inclined to spill more than she was. He wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot, and he didn’t get to be this old or a master vampire without having some smarts. So he waited.
And like any woman, when faced with a man who is listening intently, especially a very good looking one, Kirsten did spill more. The room started to recede even more, and Spike had a brief flashback to when Drusilla used to have her visions. “Watch out for the red one, trust in the yellow. The key needs protecting, and harm will come to her. The seer will dance with the devil beneath the stars and the souled one will be lost. One who was will return and will need you. You, and no other.”
The lights in her eyes began to sparkle and he nearly lost himself in her gaze. He very nearly missed what she said next, “someday, William, she will tell you.”
Now he knew something was up, because he had no idea what she meant. Spike stood there quietly, waiting patiently for more. It came, just a whisper and then her eyes changed back to the blue they were before. “Love, William, will come.”
She slumped forward, and he caught her before her head hit the counter. It broke the cloak of silence around them, and both Dawn and Janice jumped to their feet. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she gonna be ok?” Both girls were talking over each other, as Spike lifted Kirsten into his arms.
“Gonna bring her inside, Nib. Hang on.” Suiting action to words, he carried her into the living room, setting her down on the couch. With a hand on Janice’s arm, Spike spoke to Dawn. “Get a wet cloth, need to just wipe her face.”
Dawn sped off in the direction of the bathroom, and Spike looked at Janice. “How long have you known this one?”
The answer kind of surprised him. “Kirsten? Geez Spike, ever since I can remember. She’s always been here. We started kindergarten together.”
Well shit. That just blew his theory out of the water. It would have been easy to subscribe this to intervention if Kirsten was new to Sunnydale, but no, it had to be something else. Spike actually had no idea what she was, but she damn sure wasn’t completely human.
Dawn came back into the room, hearing their voices. “Kirsten is diabetic, Spike. She probably just didn’t eat enough today.”
He had no response for that. Diabetic was the least of what Kirsten was, but he knew enough to let it go.
Still, once the girls were gone, he was going to call Rupert.
[A/N: The title comes from W.H. Auden’s poem, “This Lunar Beauty”; and the quotes are as attributed. Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to review. The feedback is wonderful. Again, this isn’t criticism of the show or the writer’s per se, but the deal is, I don’t know if they had a qualified “mystic” on hand to help with any of the background stuff, but knowing what I do, my guess is no, they didn’t. Which explains some of the comments made; “magic and medicine don’t mix” is one that comes to mind. *Sighs* I’m going to try and stay off my personal soap box, and just write the story, but sometimes, things (read that inconsistencies) will compel me to debunk them. That being said, Joss Whedon created something wonderful, a rich and varied playground. I’m just really grateful to him and the others that helped bring it to life, where it could be seen.] Standard disclaimers still apply.
Previously, Grieving is on-going, but healing is also starting, Willow’s planning on a retrieval, Spike is making like a 70's sitcom dad (sort of) and Giles had to return to England for a bit. Wheels are turning, some forward, some backward . . . .
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